


When You Say Nothing At All

by slythatheart



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5 Times, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-22
Updated: 2015-03-22
Packaged: 2018-03-18 19:15:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3580845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slythatheart/pseuds/slythatheart
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Five times that Lydia and Jordan didn't need to say anything, plus one time they said everything.</p>
            </blockquote>





	When You Say Nothing At All

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song "When You Say Nothing At All", performed by Keith Whitley, Alison Krauss, and most recently Ronan Keating.

**1.**

“That was...”

“It really _was_ ,” Lydia agreed, giving a long, leisurely stretch. Her body felt relaxed and satiated. She’d assumed that their fourth date was going to be as chaste as their first three, right up until the moment that it wasn’t. The bedsheet fell to her waist as she moved, and she was pleased to see the appreciative look Jordan gave her.

“I didn’t mean for that to happen,” he told her with a sheepish expression.

“Are you saying that you regret it, Deputy Parrish?” Lydia teased. She straddled his waist, folding her arms and resting them on his chest, so she could prop her chin on her forearms and grin at him.

“I’d have to be from another planet,” he laughed, running his warm hands over her back. She refused to arch into his touch like a cat, but she let herself enjoy the feeling anyway. “Hey, do you think that’s a thing?” he added, then shook his head when she raised an eyebrow at him. “Never mind; now is _not_ the time to ponder aliens.”

“Definitely not,” she said. She didn’t want to examine why his quirks were so amusing — if any other guy had made a comment like that while she was naked above them she’d have been annoyed, but she wasn’t entirely sure she knew _how_ to be annoyed at Jordan.

He had such an expressive face, such open eyes. She could read him so easily, and she suspected he was just as good at reading her; at least it seemed like he was.

The way he was smiling at her, the way his hand slid from the small of her back, up between her shoulder blades, then further still to cup the base of her skull, spoke volumes. The soft, gentle strokes of his thumb against her jaw, and the almost nervous way he swallowed before he opened his mouth said everything.

“Lydia—”

“I agree.”

Jordan let out an amused huff. “You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

He was wrong — she knew exactly what he’d been about to say.

_You and me. Exclusively._

“You’re the one that thinks I’m a psychic,” she joked. He rolled his eyes good naturedly as she sat up a little. His hand was still on her neck, so she gripped his wrist and gave it an encouraging squeeze.

“I know what you were going to say,” she said.

He tilted his head at her in curiosity, but he must have found what he was looking for, because he grinned at her again and pulled her in for a long, slow kiss.

_Oh yes_ , Lydia decided, _I am definitely done with teenage boys_.

* * *

**2.**

Lydia didn’t need to wonder at how attentive Jordan was being. She didn’t need to ask why he was shaky, or why his eyes were red rimmed. She knew exactly why he couldn’t keep his hands and eyes off her, and why his lips were pressed into a worried line whenever they weren’t on her mouth or her skin.

He spent so long worshipping her body — longer than she’d normally like, longer than she’d normally stay patient for before pushing for more. But she understood completely. Part of her wanted to take control, to move things along, but instead she relaxed and let him take his time. She could easily give him this, could enjoy it, for however much longer he needed on top of the hours he’d already spent.

She’d nearly died. And not in the same way their entire social circle seemed to brush death semi-regularly, but in the absolute _life-flashed-before-her-eyes_ kind of way.

In fact, for a moment she’d thought she _had_ died.

But she didn’t once scream.

When it was all said and done, that was the one thing Jordan kept saying; the one thing he’d held onto tightly enough to keep himself grounded.

_You didn’t scream_ , he’d told her. _You had to be alive, because you didn’t scream_.

She didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t sure a banshee would scream for her own death.

Neither of them had spoken for hours. They didn’t need to, not when their trembling hands and desperate touches said so much.

_I love you_.

_I need you._

_I can’t lose you._

When he finally pressed inside her, she locked eyes with him and answered him silently. _I’m still here, still alive, still with you. I love you._

* * *

**3.**

When Jordan made his way into the kitchen he was surprised to find Lydia wasn’t there. It was unusual enough for her to be awake and about before him on a Saturday, but she wasn’t even making coffee, which was even stranger.

He switched on the coffeemaker and pulled a mug out of the cupboard, pausing mid-movement. There was a leather presentation folio on the counter, which wasn’t too unusual, except this one was adorned with a pink sticky note upon which Jordan’s name and a heart had been written in Lydia’s neat script.

Coffee forgotten, he left his mug by the machine and picked up the folio. When he opened it there was another sticky note on the inside, stuck to the first sheet of a stack of paper. There was nothing on the note except for a question mark, and the paper it was on was blank.

Jordan placed the folio down on the counter, still open, so he could flip through the pages. The first was blank on the back as well, but the next page had what appeared to be a color palette on it. The next page was the same, although it had a different set of colors. They all looked lovely together, of course, since Lydia had impeccable taste and had obviously picked them out for something, even if Jordan didn’t know _what_.

They’d only painted their apartment a few months earlier, so he hoped she hadn’t changed her mind already.

After another two pages of color palettes, Jordan found himself staring at a menu. It looked expensive, but delicious. That was probably even more confusing than the color palettes, especially when he found more menus on the next several pages.

Then, there were several pages containing photos of beautiful places; beaches, cities, mountain ranges. Some of them he’d never seen before, but some he recognized as places he and Lydia had talked about visiting one day.

It wasn’t often that Jordan was confused by Lydia, but it was definitely one of those times, until—

When Jordan turned the page containing photos of the Swiss Alps, his heart leapt into his throat and the air disappeared from his lungs. He picked up the last few pages, flicking through them quickly, just to be certain. They were all different styles along the same theme.

He put them down carefully, trying to smother the ridiculous and childish noises that wanted to bubble up out of him. Instead, he studied each page carefully before moving onto the next, committing each design to memory.

After the last page, there was one more sticky note, containing nothing but a hand drawn heart. When Jordan looked up, Lydia was in the doorway, leaning against the frame. She looked...not _worried_ , exactly. In fact, she looked perfectly relaxed and as well put together as ever, but he could tell she was nervous.

Nervous meant she wasn’t completely sure what he wanted — and _that_ meant she hadn’t figured out what he’d been planning. She did this just because she wanted to.

Lydia didn’t say anything and she really didn’t need to, because Jordan knew her better than anyone. He didn’t speak either, hesitant to break what felt like a magical moment with words. Instead, he stepped around the counter and made his way over to her. Lydia hadn’t moved an inch, still the picture of calm, but her eyes never left his.

When he was close enough to reach out and touch her, Jordan finally let the grin he’d been fighting break free, and he pulled Lydia in, kissing her over and over until she was laughing and curling her fingers into his messy bed hair.

He’d have to remember to call his sister back later. He didn’t need her to help him pick out an engagement ring anymore — he had a Lydia-approved selection of photos on the counter to help him decide.

* * *

**4.**

Jordan couldn’t believe how lucky he was. He had a job that he loved, a home he was happy in, and as of a few hours earlier, a wife he absolutely adored.

Lydia was his wife _._ He was her husband.

They were _married_.

Even though they’d been together for a few years, Jordan still sometimes struggled to fathom how Lydia — intelligent, beautiful, brave Lydia — had fallen in love with him. He was just a Deputy in a small town with a really skewed rate of violent crime; just a public servant whose weekly pay would barely cover the cost of her favorite shoes.

But she loved him as much as he loved her, and he’d thank every deity known to man, every single day of his life for it.

The music changed to something softer, something even slower. He didn’t recognize the song, but it didn’t matter, because everything was perfect. He pulled her even closer and she smiled, leaning her head on his shoulder.

When the song ended, Jordan pressed a kiss to Lydia’s hair, and she looked up at him, beaming. He slipped his left hand between them and she did the same, letting him wrap her hand in his. He lifted their joined hands, kissing the ring on her finger. Lydia’s smile turned knowing, and she replied by stroking her thumb over the ring he wore.

There was no better feeling in the world than a moment like the one they were sharing — where he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that they loved each other enough to face forever together. That they could take on the world together.

Jordan had no idea how he’d gotten so lucky, but he couldn’t wait to spend the rest of his life making sure Lydia felt just as deeply loved as he did.

* * *

**5.**

Lydia was tired, but nothing — _nothing —_ could force her to sleep. Not yet. She wasn’t ready to let go. Jordan was leaning on her hospital bed, his arm around her shoulders. He was making cooing noises and had the most adoring look on his face.

“I should be jealous to see you looking at another woman like that,” she joked.

He looked over at her and beamed but didn’t say anything, just pressed a kiss into her temple, and went back to staring in awe at the bundle in her arms.

Their daughter was so tiny, with itty bitty fingers and toes. Her fingernails were so ridiculously small, and her palms weren’t much bigger than Lydia’s thumbs. She was red and wrinkled. Her face was all scrunched up, and the parts of her skin that weren’t completely red were splotchy.

And she was the most perfect little person Lydia had ever seen. The look on Jordan’s face told her he felt the exact same way.

She was too young for them to really see whose features she would have, but she had the cutest tufts of strawberry blonde hair. When her eyes peeked open they were a beautiful, bright blue. That was normal for newborns, Lydia knew, but she quietly hoped they wouldn’t change too much, that she’d grow up to have her daddy’s perfect blue eyes.

Her tiny lips smacked together, and beside Lydia, Jordan made another little sound of delight. He hadn’t held her yet, Lydia realized with a pang of guilt. She was being selfish with their daughter, but he’d never say so.

Lydia took just one more moment, then offered the little bundle to her husband. “I think it’s time for Daddy to hold her.”

Jordan’s eyes met hers and Lydia was overwhelmed for a moment by the sheer amount of love and happiness radiating from him. His eyes were shiny, his smile was broad, and he leaned closer to her, resting their foreheads together for a moment. He didn’t say anything, didn’t need to say anything, and neither did she.

When Jordan took their daughter from Lydia’s arms, his expression softened even further and his eyes got even wetter. He leaned very close to their daughter’s tiny face and opened his mouth to make what Lydia assumed would be more baby noises, but he was interrupted with gurgles and a pat to his cheek.

“She’s telling you to stop making ridiculous baby noises at her,” Lydia said with a smile.

“We should call her Cassie.”

Lydia pursed her lips, fighting back a grin. “She’s not a psychic, Jordan.”

“She _might_ be.”

Lydia laughed. “I highly doubt it,” she replied, “but...I do like the name. Cassandra Allison Martin-Parrish.”

* * *

**+1.**

“So. Cassie’s definitely a psychic.” Lydia sighed as she all but collapsed onto the sofa. Jordan had always joked about it, but over time the comments had become less and less joking, and more and more questioning. She didn’t want to dwell on what this would mean for their daughter, but she couldn’t help herself.

She didn’t want their daughter to be burdened with that sort of awful ability.

When she looked up at Jordan, he didn’t look nearly as worried as she felt. He was grinning, and she knew...she just _knew_ he was about to—

“I _knew_ it! Hey, maybe _I’m_ a psychic.”

He was kidding, of course, but it really didn’t feel like something to laugh about. Not to her.

“Maybe you’re an idiot,” she snapped. She regretted it immediately. He hadn’t meant anything by it, she knew. He was just pleased to have finally gotten it right after years and years of suggesting almost everyone was psychic, but she just couldn’t help herself. She wasn’t prepared for their daughter to go through the hell Lydia herself had gone through.

She closed her eyes and let her head rest against the back of the sofa, and a few seconds later she felt Jordan’s weight settle beside her. He pulled at her shoulder until she twisted to cuddle up against him. She wasn’t mad at him, not really, and they both knew it.

“She’s going to be fine, you know,” Jordan said sincerely.

“How do you know that?” Lydia asked quietly. She wasn’t ready to look at him. Not yet, not when she felt so… “You saw what it was like for me. I’m okay now, but back then it was...it was so difficult. And terrifying. I don’t want that for her. I know it’s not exactly the same, but it’s close enough. She’s going to see things...probably awful things. It’s not fair.”

“You don’t know that she’ll see awful things,” Jordan answered. Lydia’s eyes snapped open and she stared at him until he winced. “Okay, yes, she’ll probably see some awful things. But Lyds, that means she can probably also help stop those things.”

“I couldn’t stop most of the things I predicted. And she got this from somewhere, right? From me.”

Jordan shook his head. “You’re a banshee. You sense death; you know that’s not the same. If she can see things coming, bad things, we can try to stop them.” He paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts. “If she did get this from you, she’d be a banshee as well. Maybe this just happened? Or maybe it’s some kind of thing where two different supernaturals have a random supernatural baby? Or...I don’t know. Maybe we both carry some kind of psychic gene and she got it from both of us. That’s a thing, right?”

Lydia sniffed. She wasn’t sure how any of that was making her feel better, but Jordan always managed to do so, even when it didn’t make sense. “I’m not sure that supernatural selection uses Punnett squares, Jordan.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter. Because what she is...and what we are...that wasn’t anything we chose. All we can do is make the best of it. And we’re doing a pretty damn good job so far, aren’t we? We’re happy. We’re healthy. We’re relatively unscathed...sort of. Cassie hasn’t had to fight for her life even once.” The last part was only half a joke, she could tell, but Jordan had that ridiculous smile on his face that always made everything better. If there was some way to harness the power of that smile she’d want to offer it as a potential cure for cancer.

“She’s _eight_ ,” Lydia argued, although she couldn’t hide her own blossoming smile.

“Eight and a half,” Jordan shot back, in a perfect imitation of their little girl’s haughtiest expression.

They sat in comfortable silence for a few minutes, Lydia mulling over what Jordan had said. He was right, in a way, she decided. She hadn’t chosen to be a banshee, and she didn’t resent her grandmother for being one before her. She knew Cassie wouldn’t hate her over a power that wasn’t even exactly the same.

“You know,” Jordan added, eventually, “your power focuses on death. On dark, bad things mostly. But Cassie’s might not. The good things, the happy things she sees coming...those could outweigh the bad.”

Lydia nodded. The few predictions that Cassie had made so far were benign, if not actually happy. Lydia was under no delusions that they would always be that way, but there was a good chance that her visions wouldn’t focus solely on death and destruction.

“You’re right.”

“I thought we already established that,” Jordan teased. Lydia couldn’t stop the little laugh that escaped her, though she smacked Jordan for it anyway.

“You know how much I love you. How much I love _both_ of you,” he told her. “You and Cassie are everything to me.”

“I feel the same way.”

“I know,” Jordan agreed, pulling her into a tighter hug. “And Cassie knows, too. If things get difficult for her, she knows she can always turn to us. No matter what. There’s nothing the three of us can’t face as a family.”

There was a lump in Lydia’s throat. She knew her eyes were a little misty, but for an altogether different reason than the tears she’d been fighting off earlier.

“I don’t know about that,” she said, swallowing roughly and patting Jordan’s chest. “I don’t think any of us are willing to face your cooking.”

“Oh, you think you’re funny now?” Jordan joked, wrapping his arms around Lydia and pulling her right into his lap. “I don’t know why you’re worried about my cooking. We just need to train Cassie to predict the next lottery draw so we can hire a chef. And probably three more lottery draws after that to pay for your next pair of _couture_ heels and matching handbag.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” she replied with a smirk, “I already charged those to your credit card.”


End file.
